Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine
Aide in need
The man that wrote those orders is pure evil.
Madge pulls the yellow contact gown off with a huff. She and Peeta had just given a second bed bath to the dirtiest of old men, who also happened to be loony as a toon. He'd fought, rather hard, and gotten both she and Peeta sweaty and soaked as they wrestled him into a presentable state.
If that doctor, that evil overlord Dr. Snow down in the emergency department, hadn't ordered an enema for him, though, there wouldn't have been a need for a second bath.
Thinking perhaps they've done their good deed for at least an hour, Madge grabs her dinamap cart and begins wheeling it down the hall. She might be able to finish her twenty-three hundred vitals by one if she hurries. What an accomplishment.
Then Annie comes towards her, clearly with great news.
Madge considers bolting into a room, hiding from whatever horrible thing she's about to be told, but that will only prolong the inevitable.
"No," Madge says flatly. She refuses to do another enema. Snow can come do it himself. Who comes to the hospital with severe constipation in the middle of the night anyway?
"Sorry, cupcake, we're getting an admit." She stops and pulls her sheets from one of her pockets, holds them out for Madge to see, "Peeta's girlfriend."
It takes almost monumental force to keep from groaning.
Johanna Mason, a frequent flyer and all around joy to be around, is apparently coming back to enjoy their hospitality. It feels like they'd only just discharged her.
During her many visits she'd run down the halls naked and had to be tackled and dragged back to her room by Annie and Madge, been caught drinking in the parking lot by security, and, most recently, thrown her hat of urine at Enobaria when she refused to let her sleep in the bathroom.
Needless to say, there aren't going to be many staff members excited to see her return.
A loud noise, like a dying whale, comes from Peeta's end. He's thrown himself over his cart, covered his face. Enobaria must've given him the happy news.
"I figure you two can switch on and off with her", Annie says. She looks genuinely sorry. "Technically, though, she's on your end."
Fantastic.
"I'm sorry, Madge, everyone else has seven except Enobaria and I. And she already has Blight…"
…and he's a walking talking disaster. Madge still actually prefers Blight over Mason. She's rude to the CNAs, disregards all their directions, and has nearly set her bed on fire with her cigarettes. The nurses have to do everything with her, which makes Madge feel a little useless.
They may have to remove all the hand sanitizer from Blight's room, but at least he was, generally, somewhat entertaining with his shenanigans as opposed to scary.
"…and after the urine incident I think it's best I keep her out of Johanna's room."
Madge lets out a heavy sigh, "I know. Where's she coming from?"
Probably the ED, with enema happy Dr. Snow, that would be her luck.
"Transferring from up north." Annie grimaces, "Apparently she went on a bit of a bender and got tossed in the drunk tank. Started tossing her cookies, passed out, and when they checked her labs they were found to be, and I quote, 'wanky'." She looks back at her paper, "Being admitted for observation with the shocking diagnosis of dehydration, and, I'm so sorry, she apparently mentioned something about her sluggish digestive tract and Snow heard... ." She looks physically pained, "They've already gotten orders for a fleets enema."."
Why? Who had she pissed off in a former life to deserve this?
"So," Madge covers her eyes,"take all the potentially sharp objects out and prepare for a literal shit storm."
"That sounds about right," Annie grins. Not even the prospect of cleaning up feces for the next seven hours dampens her spirits. "You're gonna be such a good little nurse someday."
Assuming she makes it that far.
Honestly, though, with each passing day she doubts her choice of profession.
"I'll get the room set up."
"Look on the bright side," Annie says, as Madge is walking off to the supply closet. Madge turns back to her, eyebrows raised. What bright side could there possibly be to this situation?
Annie's smile widens. "Maybe your boyfriend will bring her up. It is his night isn't it?"
Madge feels her face burn. "I don't know." It isn't like she's spent months painstakingly figuring out Gale the paramedic's schedule. She doesn't have any idea when he works. "And he isn't my boyfriend."
Annie giggles. "He could be. If you'd actually talk to him."
Doubt that. Gale probably has several girlfriends spread across the District. He's tall, dark, and handsome personified.
Besides, every time he comes to the floor Madge looks like a sweaty, C-diff covered disaster. He's barely acknowledged her, even when she's helped pull patients from the gurney to the bed.
With a final roll of her eyes, Madge heads down the hall, praying Mason is still exhausted from her visit to the jail and won't be a handful as she does.
#######
It's not even forty five minutes before the elevator dings and Johanna Mason's yells echo out the doors and into the hall.
And so it begins.
Of course Peeta has disappeared down to central supply, probably took a detour to pharmacy to flirt with that tech, Katniss.
Mags, the ancient paramedic that had taught Madge's CPR class the month before, is at the feet, gives Madge a grin as she and her stretcher roll off the elevator. Madge is half a step from walking beside her when she spots Mags' new partner and the reason for Madge's knowledge of the paramedic schedule.
Flicking his head, some of his dark, unruly hair whips out of his eyes, which are the most alluring shade of gray she's ever seen, Madge has to remind herself to breathe. No one as attractive as him ever walks onto their floor, it's simply never happened. No patient or family member, she's certain of it.
He looks at Mags, presumably for directions to the room, and pushes the head of Mason's stretcher the way the old lady points.
Lagging behind them, Madge surveys the situation. Gale's very young, maybe only a few years older than Madge herself. His uniform is much less worn than Mags'. It hasn't got the sure signs and tatterings of a seasoned paramedic as Mags' does. It fits him well, though, very well. Distractingly well.
Madge almost walks into the trashcan at the corner.
Why had she had to give an enema and bed bath tonight of all nights? It's some kind of cosmic slap in the face, she's sure of it.
Her hair's a mess, she's sweaty and stinky and probably has bodily fluids on her somewhere. On top of all that, it's her third night, the bags under her eyes are undoubtedly magnificent.
Why couldn't she have met him at the grocery store or the mall? Even a convenience store would've been a better place to meet him than at work when she looks like a drunk that's been lost in the woods for months.
When they turn into the room Madge scurries in behind them, donning a pair of gloves and running to the far side of the bed.
"I can move myself," Mason snaps when she spots Madge heading to the other side of the bed.
"Good to see you too, Ms. Mason," Madge says with a forced smile.
Mason returns it with a wicked one of her own, probably plotting, thinking of all the ways she's going to torture Madge in a very short time.
As Gale unlatches the safety straps on the stretcher Madge tries to watch him as covertly as she can. Her gaze flickers to his face as he concentrates on his task, there's a hint of stubble along his jaw. She's gotten very good at shaving men, and she wonders if offering to help him shave would sound weird or seductive.
Probably weird.
Shaking her head and forcing herself to focus, Madge reaches across the bed and tries to grab onto the sheets under Mason.
"I told you, I can do it myself," Mason snarls, practically throwing herself from the stretcher to the bed.
Putting her hands up in surrender, Madge sighs as she watches Mason wallow out a hole in the bed, her dirty clothes rubbing some unknown, but undoubtedly unpleasant substance, onto the sheets.
Mags hobbles out of the room, taking the orders out to Annie to handoff, leaving Gale to unlock the stretcher and deposit the filthy linens on the ground.
He's just pulled the stretcher from the bed and started to gather up the linens when Mason gets a wild look in her eyes. Before Madge can register what's happening, the spiky haired girl has lunged from the bed and linked her fingers through the back belt loops of Gale's pants and begun pulling him into the bed with her.
"Come on handsome, we'll kick blondie out and have some real fun," she laughs. "Unless you like an audience."
It only takes a second for Madge's mind to catch up with the situation. She throws herself across the bed, stunning Mason and making her lose her grasp on Gale, while Madge tries fruitlessly to pull her by the wrists away from him.
"Go get help!" Madge tells him as Mason grabs her by the hair.
"You and that witch are always getting in the way of my fun," Mason growls as she wrestles Madge's head down and tries to smother her in the plastic pillow.
When Gale grabs Mason's hand, saving Madge from a slow death by suffocation, Mason goes in to bite him, but misses and ends up getting a mouthful of Madge's greasy hair instead.
And a bit of her scalp.
#######
"I'm going to have rabies," Madge tells Peeta as the redheaded ED nurse, Angela, fills the last tube with blood.
"Is she foaming at the mouth?" Angela asks, turning the tube back and forth in her hand.
Peeta looks thoughtful. "Depends on the day and the moon cycle."
"Hmm," Angela nods, not really paying attention, before walking off to send the tubes to lab.
After Mason bit her Madge wasn't sure what happened. Annie had wrestled with their least favorite patient and someone had dragged Madge out of the room, ushering her to the ED. The last thing she'd of her floor had been Enobaria running from the med room with a vial and a manic grin, towards the fray.
Peeta had come down almost half an hour later, told Madge Mason had finally calmed down, though he didn't tell her how that feat had been accomplished.
"Use your imagination," he'd told her.
He'd watched as one of the techs had thoroughly rinsed and disinfected the small bite on Madge's scalp, giggling at her when she sat up, half her head soaked in normal saline and gunked up with triple antibiotic.
Madge had chewed on her lip and looked around, to make sure the tech was gone, before she asked about Gale.
"She didn't hurt him did she?" Madge was used to being roughed up by patients, Gale was fresh, a newbie, for all she knew this was his first encounter with a rabid lunatic like Johanna Mason.
"I think he'll live," Peeta had rolled his eyes. "He's probably had to deal with worse."
Taking an alcohol swab from her pocket and opening it, using it to clean under her nails, Madge tried to ask the next question without seeming to care.
"Did he ask if I was okay?"
She'd thrown herself on a mad person for him, gotten bitten in his defense, surely he'd made sure she was okay...
Peeta frowned. "Not that I know of."
That had been the melted suppository on the crap cake of her night.
"I gotta get back up to the floor," Peeta had told her. He reached over and patted her leg. "If they come back and tell you she gave you rabies, text me so I can make alternative ride plans for you."
Madge huffed. "Gee, thanks."
Peeta just grinned.
Feeling filthy and exhausted, Madge crossed her arms and waited for the doctor to come back and tell her she could go finish out her miserable shift.
It was nearly fifteen minutes after Peeta left that the little curtain around her room fluttered.
Setting her features, Madge glares at the curtain, preparing to let Dr. Snow know that, as an employee of the hospital only visiting the emergency department for a work related injury, she is not impressed with her level of care. They'd all been sitting around the desk when she'd come down, watching something on someone's phone.
Instead of Dr. Snow, the king of enemas, coming in and giving her five minutes of his precious time, it's Gale.
For several seconds he just stares at her, as if he hadn't expected her there.
Finally, he speaks.
"Uh, hi."
She's never heard him talk before, just grunt acknowledgements at Mags and the nurses, and his voice is deeper than she expected. It sends a chill up her spine.
Madge's mouth flounders for a second before she forces out an almost unnaturally high 'hi' of her own.
Gale lets the curtain drop closed behind him and takes a few short steps across the small room, until he's beside the stretcher they'd put Madge on.
It's the closest she's ever been to him, and Madge is certain she can smell his detergent and deodorant, heat, and maybe his shampoo, at the proximity. She may just be imagining it. She hopes not.
"I just wanted to say thanks, for, you know, helping with the girl upstairs," he runs his hand through his hair, putting some of his dark locks on end. "You didn't need to, but thanks."
"It was nothing," Madge mumbles, her cheeks burning.
For the millionth time she wishes she could've met him anywhere but at work.
On top of every other disgusting thing about her, she now has half a wet head and globs of inexpertly applied triple antibiotic in her hair. He must think she's revolting.
She feels something prod her head, and when she looks over, Gale has one of his very calloused looking fingers against her scalp. He frowns at her.
"Did you do this yourself?" He looks like he isn't sure if he wants the answer to be yes or no.
"The tech did," Madge tells him.
He sighs and begins smoothing the glob out and it takes every fiber in her being to not close her eyes and make obscenely contented noises at the sensation.
"There," he says when he finishes, far sooner than Madge likes.
Cheeks still flaming, Madge gives him a tight smile. "Thanks."
He goes to the sink and washes his hands, the excess ointment and grease from Madge's hair, down the sink. When he finishes he turns back to her.
"Well," he picks up an alcohol swab, toys with it for a minute then shrugs. "See you around, Marge."
Madge feels her heart fall to her feet. He doesn't even know her name. She's worn a name badge every single time she's ever encountered him, and he's never even bothered to check her name.
Suddenly feeling more than a little indignant, she'd gotten bitten for him after all, Madge glares at his back.
"My name is Madge."
For a minute she thinks he's going to ignore her. Then he turns, a little smirk on his lips.
"I know."
He stands there, with his stupid grin and his hands in his pockets, then he shrugs.
"My buddy Thom told me I needed to be careful because some chick at the hospital was stalking me," he saunters back to the stretcher. "Said 'Marge the CNA' on the med-surg floor kept asking about schedules and Mags' new partner."
Madge stares at the ground. She'd been certain she'd been careful about her snooping. The ambulance dispatch was apparently as gossipy as the rest of the medical field though, and her efforts had been transparent.
"You don't seem crazy though," he reclines into the stretcher and gives her a sidelong look. "Well…a little crazy, you did fight a girl over me, but since you weren't talking to me until a few minutes ago, though, I can't really be sure."
Peering up through her matted bangs, Madge gives him a scrutinizing look. Is he baiting her? She thinks he's baiting her.
"If you want to find out," she begins, turning her eyes back to the ground, "I get off at seven."
He chuckles, a deep, rumbling thing, and Madge cuts her eyes up again to catch his expression.
"I guess we're in luck then, my shift ends then too."
Madge fights off a smile. "You like waffles?"
"I love waffles."
The grin finally battles its way onto her face and Madge feels her cheeks heat up a few degrees more. "Then I guess I'll see you in a few hours."
Gale smiles down at her. "See you then…Madge."
He jerks up, away from the stretcher, and gives Madge a quick smile before heading to the curtain. "I'll meet you at the main entrance."
Madge nods, still smiling dopishly at him.
Once he's let the curtain drop closed, vanished off to finish his shift, Madge does a little dance on her stretcher. Despite looking like the worst kind of nightshift disaster, she'd gotten a date.
She pulls out her phone and contemplates texting Annie and telling her she finally said more than 'yes' and 'thank you' to Gale. After all, she's been encouraging Madge to do just that for months.
Instead, she scrolls down to Peeta.
'Have Rabies. Taking the bus.'
She drops her phone into her pocket without waiting for his response and begins toying with her hair, trying to figure out how to pull it to hid the still obvious glob of ointment on her scalp.
Then again, maybe Gale likes that sort of thing. She frowns. Is that weird of seductive?
Probably weird.
She doesn't care though.